


I Failed so Many Pinterest Crafts Trying to Tell You This:

by obsessivecompulsivedisorderly



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M, Pinterest, SO MUCH FLUFF, Sterek Haven Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 08:07:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2805548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessivecompulsivedisorderly/pseuds/obsessivecompulsivedisorderly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek can’t use his words to tell Stiles how much he loves him, so he resorts to Laura’s secret “OPERATION GET STILE’S D” Pinterest board for help. </p><p>Add in ‘advice’ from the pack and some seriously bad luck.</p><p>Spoiler alert: it doesn’t exactly go too well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Failed so Many Pinterest Crafts Trying to Tell You This:

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lydiamartinus on tumblr.](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=lydiamartinus+on+tumblr.), [tigerpip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigerpip/gifts).



> Written for the lovely Fia 
> 
> I totally ignored all deaths after the fire, and Erica and Boyd and Allison are happily alive. Ok? Ok.
> 
> And there are some random POV changes…so oops.

I.  
“This Modgehodge shit is stuck all over my arms and I think it’s burning my skin. It also smells awful. What am I supposed to do with it?” Derek idly scratches at the dried goop spread across his hands and arms. He turns to face the skype window on his laptop, where Laura sat (trying) to help.  
“First of all, it’s Modge PODGE. It’s not going to kill you, but it’s definitely going to pull all of your arm hair out. Let’s hope your boytoy likes the plucked chicken look.” Laura laughs as Derek growls.  
“Not my ‘boytoy’ Laur. I don’t know why I called you. Shit, why am I even doing this? You said this would be easy. “ Derek angrily covered the canvas in the glue.  
“Every craft on that pinterest board is Derek-able. I promise. You just need patience.”  
Derek trains the fan on the canvas. “30 minutes to dry?” He stares down at the reprinted picture of the pack, spread across a canvas. “I don’t even understand how this works. The picture transfers onto this thing? This isn’t going to work. I can already tell.” He grimaces at Laura.  
“Ok, Debbie Downer. With that attitude, none of these project will woo your man.”  
He doesn’t even try to correct her this time.  
“My man might not even appreciate this. What if he doesn’t like it? Laura!”  
“Der. You need to stop panicking. Squealing teenage girl doesn’t suit you. It’s a gift from the heart, and it shows that you put time and effort into showing him how much you love him. No one could hate that.” Her voice goes soft and she smiles at Derek. “I’m sure Stiles will love it”  
“Shhhh!” He hisses out at her. “Erica and Boyd are upstairs! They can’t know. This is embarrassing enough as it is.”  
“If you think they’re upstairs listening to us, you’re more oblivious than I thought. I promise, the only thing they’re focusing on is where they left the lube.”  
“STOP. I don’t want to hear it. Honestly, why are you even here still? Go do something. “ He exits out of the Skype window as she continues to talk.

*********

“Motherfucking shit,” Derek stares at the newly revealed picture. He glances at the paper he’s just peeled off and back to the picture.  
“Jesus, you sound like Stiles. What are you so mad abo—“ Erica comes to a stop in front of the table. “Holy shit.”  
“I know.” Derek miserably whines.  
Boyd joins the two and immediately begins choking on the sandwich he’d made. “Wha-you-how di—“ he trails off in coughs.  
The three look down at the image of the pack. Somehow, Derek had applied the picture backwards, so the letters formed with each members’ hands (HALE PACK…even Jackson had joined in.) looked like ancient hieroglyphics. The glue hadn’t dried correctly, and some of the faces seemed to be melting off the canvas.  
“This is the worst thing I’ve ever seen,” Erica offers from next to Derek. “What were you trying to make for Stiles, anyway?”  
Derek ignores her comment and stalks away to his room. Of course Laura had told the two. Of course.  
“Fucking Laura.”

 

II. 

Derek didn’t understand how Stiles could basically live off of Lucky Charms. He’d always thought that the marshmallows were disgusting, so a mason jar full of the sticky shit sounds awful. Apparently, he cares about Stiles more than keeping his lunch down, so when Lydia strolls into his loft, she finds him hunched over the table surrounded by boxes of the cereal.  
“What are you doing?” She raises an eyebrow at the massive piles of marshmallows and cereal pieces.  
Derek looks up with a slightly dazed look in his eyes. “Uhm, picking out the marshmallows?”  
“You’re in love with Stiles.”  
Derek inhales the piece of cereal he’d been eating and coughs out, “What? Why do you—what?”  
“Why else would you be touching Satan’s cereal? Stiles is the only one who will even go near that crap.” She sits down. “Now, how do you plan on doing this, because showing up with some lumpy, fake sugar pieces isn’t exactly the most romantic way to go?” She taps her manicured fingernails on the table. “What about using them to spell out a message?”  
Derek sighs heavily and wipes off his sticky hands. “What do you need, Lydia?”  
“Well, I was going to ask for the maps you copied last week, but this is gold.” She reaches for the laptop sitting next to Derek. “What is this? 'Operation Get Stiles’ D'? Oh my god. Did Laura make this Pinterst board? That’s perfect!” Lydia begins to cackle as Derek pulls the laptop back.  
“Get. Out.” Derek points his sticky finger at the door. He can still hear Lydia laughing as she starts her car.

*********

Two hours and countless curses later, Derek finally sits back and surveys the table. One big Mason jar holds over 300 lucky charms (yes, he counted them) and sits next to a mountain of discarded cereal pieces. His eyes feel heavy, and he blames the tiredness for the fact that he completely misses Scott’s entrance into the kitchen.  
“Dude, what is this?” He leans in behind Derek.  
His sudden appearance startles Derek, and he jolts up from his chair, sharply bumping into the table. It’s like his worst nightmare in slow motion as the Mason jar crashes onto the ground. Slightly melting marshmallow pieces scatter across the kitchen floor, sticking to every piece of dirt and dust.  
Scott’s mouth forms a perfect ‘O’ as he backs away from the table.  
“So, I’m just gonna go grab some stuff for Lyds….sorry man!” He flees from the disaster zone and the door swings shut behind him. Derek forlornly kicks at a few pieces on the floor. He turns for his laptop, back to the board. He’ll make Scott clean up the floor later. 

 

III.  
A decorated mug seemed like the next easiest gift on the board. Derek waits until he knows that his pack is otherwise occupied before he settles at the table with a mug and his laptop. The markers he had bought the day before are lined up next to him. He pulls up the comic book lettering he wants to use as a guide, and takes a deep breath, ready to focus.  
“Derek? Wait, what are you doing?” Isaac comes to a stop in front of Derek, his cheeks flushed and his eyes bright.  
“What the hell are you doing? You’re supposed to be at Scott’s!” Derek makes a half-hearted attempt to shield the mug from Isaac’s wandering eyes, but he gives up as Isaac sits down.  
“Yeah, but his dad showed up, and I’m not down for dysfunctional dads…” He reaches for the mug and laptop. “Oh! Are you gonna write something in these letters? That’ll look so cool!” He slides the supplies back over to Derek.  
Derek reaches for a black marker and begins to lightly trace the batman logo on the back.  
“Does Stiles know you’re making this for him?”  
“Wha—how do you know it’s for Stiles?!” Derek huffs.  
“I mean, he’s pretty much the only one who doesn’t know you’re sickeningly in love with him. Plus, Batman…who else would it be for?”  
Derek kicks at Isaac’s chair under the table and sends the younger boy crashing to the ground.  
“Go. Now.”  
Isaac shakes his head knowingly and leaves the kitchen, humming the batman theme song all the way.  
Derek narrowly misses hitting his laptop as he slams his head down on the table. 

*********

Derek opens his eyes from his nap on the couch to the timer he set on his phone. The mug was done.  
He grabs the mug with a potholder and sets it down on the counter before turning to close the oven. As he pulls the mitt off his hand, he notices black smudges all over the green fabric. Nononono!  
When Derek flips the mug around to where he has stenciled 'Batman' in pop art font, he’s met with colorful smears of marker.  
“Shit.” He hears Isaac enter the kitchen.  
“So how did it—shit. You didn’t wait until it cooled! It’ll smear if you grab it while it’s hot!” He rubs at the mess on the cup and looks at his dyed fingers.  
“No shit.” Derek elbows Isaac out of the way and tosses the mug in the garbage. It hits the bottom with an echoing thump, just like the hope he felt for this attempt.  
“Cheer up big guy, maybe next time.”  
Derek punches Isaac in the shoulder before grabbing his laptop and retreating to his rom. Back to the board. 

 

IV.  
Laura had promised that this one was basically foolproof. Paper, envelopes, the stupid markers he had bought for the mug…Derek was set. He finishes the last envelope with a blue marker. ‘Open When You Feel Lonely.’ The letters were a cheesy but good idea—Stiles would have a piece of Derek whenever he needed, as long as he had the letters. He makes sure the writing was dry (!!!) before he stacks up the 10 envelopes next on the table.  
“Yo Der!” A voice calls from the front door.  
Derek panics as he hears Stiles walking toward the kitchen.  
“Shitshitshitshitshit” he mutters as he scrambles to cover the letters with the dishtowel nearby. In his happiness at the successful gift (fucking finally), he had missed Stiles’ arrival.  
He shoves the last letter under the towel as Stiles appears in the doorway.  
“Nope. You don’t look guilty at all.” Stiles raises an eyebrow as he sits down with his mug of coffee across from Derek. “What were you doing?”  
“Nothing! Just working on my laptop!”  
Stiles clears his throat expectantly at laptop where it was stashed in the far corner of the room.  
“Ooookay Mr. Shady…Slim Shady…” Stiles dissolves into laughter at the joke. “Wait, you know Slim Shady, right?” At Derek’s blank look, Stiles groans. “Duuuude, Eminem is the best!” He emphasizes his point with a flailing of his arms, accidentally hitting the mug of coffee and sending it toppling over onto the towel….and the letters.  
“Oh dude! I’m so sorry! Here, let me…” Stiles reaches for the towel to wipe up the puddle but Derek intercepts him.  
“NO! I mean, it’s fine. Really. Just leave it.”  
Stiles leans in to look at the pile.  
“Shit! Did you have papers under there? Let me try to wipe them off.” He reaches for the pile with the hand not in Derek’s grip.  
Panicking, Derek drops Stiles’ hand and sweeps the mess up into his arms. He drops the bundle into the garbage can before Stiles can ask any more questions. He’d try to save the envelopes later.  
“Why’d you throw it away? You could’ve at least washed the towel!” Stiles protests as Derek steers him into the living room.  
“It’s fine, I didn’t like it anyway. Movie?” Derek pushes Stiles down onto the couch and tries to slow his racing heart. 

*********

By the time Derek returned to his apartment from walking Stiles to his car, Isaac had gotten back from Scott’s house and was making Spaghetti.  
“What are you doing? You don’t cook.” Derek crosses his arms at Issac where he’s stirring a pot of sauce.  
“No, but Mrs. McCall gave me this recipe and said I should try it. She thinks I’m too skinny.”  
Derek snorts at the comment and moves to get the letters from the trash. He opens the lid to see tomato sauce covering everything.  
“Isaac. What. Is. This.” Derek slowly reaches for the corner of an envelope.  
“Oh yeah, I was supposed to use diced tomatoes, not tomato paste. I had already opened the past though, so I just threw it way.” He chirps from his spot at the stove, oblivious to Derek’s anger.  
Derek drops an envelope onto the counter and it lands with a mini explosion of tomato paste.  
“What is—ohhhhh. Shit. Why were those in the trash?!”  
Derek had clued Isaac in on the latest attempt, only because he had stumbled upon Derek browsing the rest of Pinterest for different prompts earlier that day.  
Derek slid down until he was on the floor, his back against the cabinets.  
“Stiles came over, and I completely missed him walking in. I hid them under a towel—shut up Isaac, I was desperate—and he spilled his coffee all over the pile. I panicked and put them in the trash!” Derek moans from where his head is hidden in his arms. “There is no way that this is going to work. Maybe it’s a sign that I shouldn’t tell him at all. “  
Isaac pats Derek on the shoulder, and dodges the following punch before returning to the sauce. Derek hears Erica and Boyd enter the kitchen, but doesn’t look up.  
“It’s not a sign. That’s stupid…and a cop-out.” Boyd crosses his arms and pokes at Derek with his foot. “Man up and just tell him how you feel. If you’re so scared and need to do it in some weird, non-verbal way, then forget all the Martha Stewart shit and just be you.”  
Derek looks up from his arms and stares at Boyd. “Be me?”  
Boyd scoffs and reaches for the plate Isaac holds out to him.  
“Be me.” Derek repeats. “Just be me.” He rises from the floor and nudges Boyd in thanks before heading to his room. He had one last project to do. 

 

V.  
Stiles stumbles up the stairs to his room and flops down on his bed. He can hear something crinkling under his back, and he wrestles an envelope out from underneath him. ‘For Stiles’ is scribbled across the front and underlined gold ink. He opens it and pulls out a thick pile of paper. He begins to read: 

 

"Ok, I’m really shitty at this, so I decided the best way I could tell you how much I love you would be by giving you my trust. (Laura’s stupid phrase, not mine). I trust you with anything, Stiles. Always will. Maybe this will help answer some of your questions…

1\. What is your favorite color?

I have absolutely no idea why you’d want to know this, but my favorite color is blue. 

2\. Where do your eyebrows go when you shift?

I swear to God, Stiles, ask me this one more time.  
(I have absolutely no idea where they go. Maybe you should find out for me. Do some research)

4\. You’ve never actually asked me this, but I know that you’re going to ask why I love you:

You tap your pen against your lower lip when you’re concentrating, and you chew on the end when you’re frustrated.  
You slurp your coffee obnoxiously and for some reason, I find it insanely adorable.  
You’re the only person I know that eats a piece of pizza backward.  
Apparently you have ADD, but my favorite Stiles is unrestrained, excited, bouncy, happy Stiles.  
You have a fierce determination to make things right, no matter the scale of the problem, and you protect your friends and family with your life.  
You’ve never given up when shit gets hard, and I know you’re going to try and fight me on this, but you never once let the Nematon win. You never lost yourself, and that takes more bravery and courage than I’ve ever seen.  
Your kindness and generosity astound me, Stiles, you astound me. You’re the most fascinating, infuriating, funny, gorgeous person I’ve ever loved. 

I finally decided to forget the art bullshit and just go with what I know. I know that your mom is the most important piece of your heart, and I always want to make you feel loved. 

I love you, Stiles Stilinski.  
(I fucking failed so many pinterest crafts trying to tell you this.)"

 

Stiles looks at the paper that slipped out from in between the pages and landed in his lap. With shaking hands, he reads the words across the top: 

“DONATION IN THE HONOR OF ‘CLAUDIA STILINKSI’ DEDICATED TO RESEARCH FOR THE CURE TO GLIOBLASTOMA  
$50,000.”

The insignia across the top lists the name of the foundation that helped his dad pay the hospital bills after his mom died: The Ben and Catherine Ivy Foundation. The paper darkens in spots from the tears trickling from the corners of his eyes. He reaches for his phone and types out a text. 

“THIS IS THE MOST AMAZING THING ANYONE HAS EVER DONE FOR ME. I FUCKING LOVE YOU TOO, YOU ASSHOLE. GET YOUR STUPID FACE OVER HERE. NOW. “

He can hear his window creak open the minute his text sends. He turns to meet Derek’s anxious eyes.

When Derek sees Stiles’ watery smile and shining eyes, he feels something slip into place, remedying a hole he’d never realized he had.  
It feels like home and happiness and laughter…it feels like love.


End file.
